The Art of Butterflies

"Agent Todd, if you could begin calling the next set of people who knew Bennett that would be great. You'll probably be waking them up, but we don't have time for courtesy." Hotch said in passing to the woman, not having time to stop as he moved on to the already covered white board.

At 10:00 PM, it had been eleven hours since they'd last seen JJ. The darkness outside the window seemed to be teasing them – as if they were running blind, and after all these hours, Spencer Reid couldn't help but feel that was right.

In all truth, they knew everything about Anthony Bennett. They'd worked his case, even been close to closing it – but they were missing that piece. They were missing the piece that would tell them where he was keeping her. All evidence pointed to her simply vanishing and with no concrete proof that she was alive, the team were going to believe that she was until they saw that unthinkable sight.

Reid looked up from the file of the secretary Bennett had killed to see Agent Todd dialing the phone. When she'd arrived, there'd been no time for a real reunion – they'd all merely shook hands before Hotch had hustled her off for a media conference in which she'd helped set up the phone line that the police force of the town were now answering.

It hurt him deeply to know that his friend could be out there, alive, afraid, and in pain. He knew what kind of psychological torture it was to know that you were alone – that you couldn't be sure of anything, only fear what might come. He couldn't stand to know that she could be going through that.

It hurt worse to think she might be dead.

He couldn't help but feel they were missing something – he knew they were missing something. She hadn't been killed at the scene, and the rest of his victims had been. Reid knew the team was holding onto that fact. But if he'd taken her – where? That was the question that haunted them all. Where was JJ?

He looked down at the dead secretary's file again. Jane Wilson had been the only other secretary in the building, and the BAU thought, the catalyst for Bennett's actions. The puzzle piece missing was why he'd saved her for last. The BAU had inferred that he'd done so because he was smarter than they'd originally assumed – he knew he'd be caught. Wilson had been a constant source of antagonism fro Bennett – she'd been slated for promotion to a larger office as well, a job that Bennett himself had wanted. The killings had started around the time that the promotion had been announced – but still, he hadn't gone for her right away. He'd waited, he'd bidden his time. Wilson had only been twenty eight.

She'd lived alone.

He paused, his brain whirring. He almost didn't want to speak it – his heart pounded. Was it possible? Bennett wouldn't have the key – he could break in – had Wilson's key been found? Crime scene was done with her house – could that have gone unnoticed? Nobody was moving into Wilson's house right away …

"Uh…' He breathed. "Hotch?" His voice came out as a squeak. "Is Jane Wilson's house being watched?"

The file that the unit chief had picked up was placed back down immediately; he'd instead picked up the phone. "Reid, the address."

"212 Coralline Road."

"We need backup for 212 Coralline Road, one suspected hostage, residential area – nobody goes in until I give the command." Hotch had hung up the phone, but his team didn't even need the command – Morgan was already suiting up in a bullet proof vest, Rossi was placing his gun in its holster. Reid had jumped to his feet, grabbing Wilson's file in his hand, and Prentiss seemed to have gotten ready before anybody else even noticed, as if she'd always been ready, waiting for this moment.

It was only Agent Todd who didn't move, having lifted her eyes from the address book, a pen in one hand and a phone in the other. Her eyes met Hotch's a question living there.

"You're coming with us, Jordan." Hotch answered, slipping his own gun into its holster. If they were right about this, she wouldn't need to make phone calls. He spoke his next words, however, with what sounded curiously like regret, though his voice was that of strong, concrete certainty. "We don't know what he's done to her – she could be frightened of us. If that's true, we'll benefit from more than one woman presence."

"Hotch, you don't think-" Morgan asked, his face appalled.

"She wouldn't intentionally be frightened of us." He avoided Morgan's true question. "And I don't know what he's done to her, Morgan." The group was already moving out of headquarters and out of the building. "She'll be confused and weak." He continued. "No matter what he did to her, that's going to be true." It didn't' matter that Bennett was impotent – there were other ways of making JJ afraid.

"Point taken." Morgan answered, nodding to Hotch, who passed the younger agent a pair of keys.

"Rossi, Prentiss, with me." Hotch said as they burst out the glass doors and into the cool, dark night air. "Reid, Todd, with Morgan. Nobody goes in until I give the command."

--

It was almost immeasurable, the pain that she was in – she'd never felt anything like it. She'd been right that her remark wouldn't go unpunished. JJ knew without a doubt that she had a fever – she remembered when she was young and had the flu. This was worse.

It was worse because the flu had an end. The family doctor had given her a time frame. There would be no measured end to this hell, and she didn't want to play the waiting game.

No savior came to JJ's door that night…

TBC

Author's Note:

I hope you enjoyed the chapter – and you can ponder what that last line means, though I'm sure most of you can figure it out. Sorry about that, to those who figured it out.

Also, I'd really like to thank everyone who managed to raise this chapter from 51 reviews to 71 reviews in a single chapter. I've never been happier – and a lot of you reassured me that the story was nowhere near boring, and I'd really like to thank all of you for that.